i slept in fits
tiny islands
of peace in a sea of chaos
the words churning
whispering
begging not to be

forgotten

so i cling to this half awake
feeling of dizzy dread
listening as the coffee drips
standing with a butterfly net
trying to rescus the words
before they burn out
before i too simply

fade away

energy cannot be created
nor detroyed
thus the mania i infuse
into every insipid line of
matephorical idiocy
is destined to live forever
unread and coiled like a
viper hidden in the tall grass

navigating the intricacies of
madness at the heart
of sanity
circumscribing
this condition of falling apart
in sprays of acidic hope
a series of sand castles
reclaimed by the sea
one at a time
until every last villager
seeking solace
is drowned on the high tide of
best intentions
leaving every single thought
plagarized with misunderstanding

i slept in fits
microbursts of intangibility
more tired for each taste
as the words churn
and i am quite fearful
not of being forgotten
but of losing my grasp
on the splintered shaft of this
butterfly net
all the words burning across
this predawn confusion
while i chase dreams
waking alone with nothing to show
but a headache
and a hint of beauty streaking
into the sea